


A Christmas Vibe

by dramaticinsanity



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Based on A Christmas Carol, M/M, Modern, no powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaticinsanity/pseuds/dramaticinsanity
Summary: Central City has its very own scrooge. Where there’s scrooges, then there must be three ghosts to show them the error of their ways.





	1. Cisco Ramon

“Check my math.” 

Harry flings the papers in his general direction. He used to scramble, but he grabs them up in a well-practiced moves. He has grown used to Harry’s flippant manner. It doesn’t take him long to finish, but Harry still sighs and glares at him after a few seconds. Cisco doesn’t pay him any mind.

He grins and says, “Perfect, of course, Dr. Wells.”

Cisco shuffles over to examine the blueprints. Harry stiffens. Despite Cisco pressing slightly against his side, he doesn’t move away. Cisco has noticed he usually avoids human contact. Something catches Cisco’s eye. He touches his finger to it. Harry glowers at the place his finger makes contact. 

“I think you should tighten the neutron coil. There may be a risk of cataclysmic particle dissonance if you -”

“Did I ask?”

Cisco’s jaw snaps closed at his sharp tone. He ducks his head. “No sir.”

“You are my assistant. I don’t pay you to think of “may be’s”, “might happens” and “what ifs”. And I certainly don’t pay you to tell me what I should or should not do. Am I clear?”

“But as a scientist shouldn’t you explore every -”

Harry’s frown deepens. Lowering his voice he says, “I won’t repeat myself.”

“Yes sir.”

It’s difficult to resist the urge to argue. Harry seems particularly on edge the past month, and he seems less likely to allow the usual mouthiness of his employee to slide. Therefore, Cisco doesn’t mention that Harry barely pays him anything, certainly not the worth of his work. This isn’t the first time he’s angered his boss - well the ad said they were supposed to be partners but Harry treats him like the gum stuck to his shoe.Harry rolls up the blueprint and leaves in a huff. At the threshold he turns back. He gestures at their workspace.

“Clean up the workshop.” Then he’s gone. 

Cisco looks around the mess with a sinking stomach. There are bits and bobs everywhere, papers strewn over work tables, and chemicals that need to be catalogued and stored. There’s shattered glass across the floor space from when Harry got frustrated and threw a beaker. Several markers suffered the same fate as projectiles, but luckily they’re sturdier. Cisco knows he won’t get paid overtime for this, despite it not even being in his job description. However, he grabs the broom and gets started. He can’t afford to lose this job to the whims of his moody boss.

As soon as Cisco is through the door half past midnight, Dante gripes, “That Wells is an absolute menace. I want to - to slap him with a fish. You said he’s violently allergic right? He takes you for granted.”

Cisco sighs. “It’s my dream job. I never guessed I should be so lucky to work with the great Dr. Wells to innovate the world.”

Dante rolls his eyes and paces the floor with hands shoved in his pockets. “Doesn’t mean he should get to walk all over you. That’s always your excuse. He doesn’t pay you half of what you’re worth, or even treat you like a human being! I bet you won’t see a cent of this extra time either. Does he have any idea how hard it is here without you?!”

Dante raises his damaged hands. They shake uncontrollably, and his fingers refuse to uncurl. His wife Melinda works two jobs, yet they can’t save up enough to fix them. Besides, they’re both trying to stockpile money to save a friend’s dying four year old son first. The Queens are the only reason the Ramons weren’t swamped in debt from medical bills, when they still had such funds. Now, because of a terrible series of events, they are even poorer than the Ramons.

It’s a wonder Dante’s three children don’t run amok, which is possibly due to Cisco’s help after he moved here for work. They’re pretty good kids though. Cisco sets his bag on the old, worn out couch. It creaks in response. He walks to the sink and starts to wash the dishes. 

He throws over his shoulder, “I’m sorry. I should’ve been faster.” 

Dante murmurs, “It’s not your fault. It’s that creep boss of yours who needs to get a clue.”

Dante knows his confidence issues because of their parents, and the bullies at school. Ever since Cisco got drunk and spilled his grievances at the funeral, Dante has been his biggest support. After finishing the dishes, he plops on the couch beside Dante. He turns on the old TV, which was inherited from their grandmother. They share from a dented can of root beer some guy threw at Dante’s head and a package of stale crackers.

“Mel took off a shift to help decorate tomorrow.” 

Christmas Eve looms close. The holiday always creeps up on them so fast. Preparations were usually last minute, because of Melinda’s and Cisco’s jobs, and Dante’s physical limitations. Dante glances at the single, sad box of decorations. There isn’t much to brighten the house, but they try their best to make up for it in spirit and familial love.

“Can you go get a tree? I want to surprise the kids when they get home from school.”

Cisco smiles. It’s a rare year that they can afford a tree. Unfortunately, there won’t be much to put under it, but the kids love decorating the tree, and seeing it every morning. It will probably stay up as long as possible. The look on the kids’ faces is quite the highlight. Cisco is already grinning at the thought.

“You inviting the Queens?”

“Yeah. I’m going to have them stay until after New Year’s. Felicity got laid off - merger of Queen Consolidated and Palmer Tech - and William had another surgery.”

Cisco winces. So they’re in even worse shape than usual. Oliver Queen used to be a rich elite, but he sacrificed his fortune to save Star City from some criminal mastermind. The good karma they’ve got under their belts is bound to eventually pay off. Cisco hopes for their sake.

“I have a good vibe - this Christmas will be different,” Cisco remarks suddenly. He feels it in his gut, maybe even deeper. “It’ll be the best one yet.”

Dante raises skeptical eyebrows and takes a swig. Cisco raises his chin.

“Tomorrow I’ll ask for a raise.”

Dante nearly spits out his drink. He manages to swallow it down and snorts in derision. “Good luck with that. He might even spare you a lecture and just kick your ass out.”

“Have a little faith Dante. I believe there is still some warmth remaining in him somewhere.” 

Harry made it seem like he had a cold, cracked, thorn woven heart, but Cisco knew better. He knew that Harry had a family once, that he cared once. He’s seen the portrait of a younger - he’s still just as handsome though, if not more - smiling Harry with a blonde woman at his side and girl between them. Cisco had never dared ask about it, though.

“You have more in your pinky finger than he has in his entire body, little bro. If he has any at all. I respect your endless optimism but -”

Dante shakes his head. 

“No harm in trying, is there?”

“I mean it though, good luck. We need it. Badly.”


	2. Harry Wells

The walls and furniture of Harry’s home - no  _ house _ , it hasn’t been a home since Tess died and Jesse left - loom toward him menacingly. The shadows threaten to choke him, and he might welcome their company. He disables the alarm and pours himself a bit of wine. Harry is tired of lecturing his assistant. At first, his spunk seemed promising, but now it’s just getting under his skin. He’s too bright-eyed, too innocent, too small in his cheap looking graphic tees. 

Hewitt thought outside the box. He was an eager and ambitious scientist. He thought the world was his oyster. They killed him for it. That five-car wreck was no accident. The others were collateral damage, but no deaths other than Hewitt and Tess, killed in one fell swoop. He had not spent many days on grief, for he had to work to do. He was determined to complete their vision if it finally killed him as well. He had sworn it over each of their graves.

Harry shakes off the ghosts of his past. He unrolls the blueprint and turns on the table lamp. Much as he hates to admit, he might have to take Cisco’s advice. The last time he tried to fire up the particle accelerator, the engineer died in a contained explosion. Perhaps the neutron coil was the issue. Not that he would ever admit it. A few hours pass and his eyes start to feel heavy and crusted. He goes to bed.

In the morning, he’s greeted by a snow. It’s like a giant fuck you from the universe. He makes a face at his reflection in the window. One look at his car, and he decides to just walk. He’s fit enough, twelve blocks won’t even wind him. He practically stomps down the last block to work, shouldering past pedestrians who are too slow. A man in a cap, a ratty coat, and dirty bandages on his shaky hands gets in his way. 

“Would you like to donate to a good cause, sir?” He holds out a money collecting bucket. “For the poor and in need?”

He smells like a rat died in a dumpster lined with spoiled milk. Harry curls his lip. He grabs his shoulder and pushes him. “Out of my way lazy beggar, some of us have work to do. Perhaps your time would be better spent at Iron Heights.”

“Merry Christmas Dr. Wells, God help you!”

Harry flips him off without glancing back. He tugs out his hand sanitizer and applies a generous amount. The only charity he’ll be showing today is for himself. There’s an unpleasant fluttering in his stomach at the fact that he knows his name, but then, he’s fairly well known, maybe even among homeless drug addicts. 

He ignores the strange, suspicious feeling in his gut for now. He enters his facility and stops. The empty lobby isn’t so empty as expected. The place is usually a ghost town after the explosion and a few ‘mysterious’ deaths of lab techs that followed in seemingly unrelated incidents. There’s at least one reporter out there who thinks he’s some kind of serial killer.

“What is that hideous thing?”

Harry gestures at the large tree in the foyer. It looks like a live tree. It smells like a live tree. He won’t be watering it or cleaning up the needles. Cisco is currently wrapping it in silver tinsel. He smiles at Harry, making his dimples and the freckle on his cheek stand out. His beautiful brown eyes practically sparkle. He should be revolted by this cheer.

“A christmas tree? You’ve heard of them right?”

Harry doesn’t appreciate the tone. He rubs his hands together and puffs hot air into them. He’s pretty sure it would violate his own safety codes if he held them over a Bunsen burner flame. He never invested in new gloves or a scarf. The last ones were gifts from his late wife. He couldn’t bring himself to wear them after she was gone.

Harry puts his hands on his hips and squints. Cisco doesn’t show any signs of stopping. “Why. Ramon. Why?”

He can’t quite articulate his feelings about Cisco torturing him in this manner. 

“It was a buy one get one free sale! They even provided cables to secure the one for my family to the top of my car, and this one guy what was his name - Barry Allen - brought this tree here.”

Harry stalks closer and grabs the end of tinsel. Cisco halts in his ministrations. 

Harry asks, “What are you doing?”

“Tinsel.”

Harry frowns. For a moment, Cisco looks afraid Harry is going to toss both him and the tree right out the door. He’ll show mercy, for now.

“Your tinsel to surface ratio is terrible.” Harry begins unwinding it, eliminating Cisco’s hard work, his incorrect work. Cisco tries to salvage it, but Harry rips it out of his hands. 

“You know what’s terrible?” Harry cocks his head.

“Yeah, what?”

“Your Scrooge to Grinch ratio is terrible.”

Harry makes a noise. It almost sounds like a laugh, but Harry doesn’t laugh. He whips the tinsel at Cisco and mumbles, “Wouldn’t touch you with a thirty nine and a half foot pole.”

Cisco laughs, loud and unabashed. His eyes twinkle again in the fluorescent light, and Harry has visions of sugar plums dancing in his head. 

A silent moment passes. “When you finish with this ridiculousness, I’ll see you in my office, to discuss the blueprints. You’re dealing with this coniferous monstrosity by the way, the clean up and care. I won’t have anything to do with it.”

Cisco perks like a dog that heard the word  _ walk _ . “You want me to help you finish?”

Harry loses his train of thought at the way Cisco is looking at him. “Help me - finish -?” He has a brief flash of clothes strewn in the lab, lots of paperwork, and a professional nightmare.

“The blueprints!”

“Right. That’s. What I said. Just testing you.”

Cisco rocks on the balls of his feet, and Harry is distracted by the bouncing of his curls. “You got it Dr. Wells.”

Harry motions him onward, and they head to his office. Cisco briefly touches the frame of the picture on his desk and smiles, for some reason wistful. Harry resists the urge to smack his hand away and pulls out the designs. Though it pains him, he goes over the flaws in the project with Cisco. He is able to think of it as though he can already physically touch it. Against his better judgement, Harry is fascinated. He’s never known someone with Cisco’s mind. They’re getting along decently well, the occasionally banter tame and not becoming hostile. Harry begins to relax. Then, as it comes to a close, Cisco has to shatter it with one request.

“Dr. Wells? I’d like to ask you something important.”

“Yes?” Harry lounges in a computer chair, in a rare moment of good humor and ease. It’s short lived.

“It would be awful nice - I was hoping - if you could, uh - with Christmas coming and all, you know. My brother has fallen on hard times, his wife she - she has to work so much for so little, they just really want a good holiday for the kids to remember. And I -”

“Spit it out Ramon.”

“I’d like a raise. Please. Or a holiday bonus? Just for the season! The heating bills alone are killing us -”

Harry jerks his arm outward and sweeps a filled to bursting pencil holder on the floor. Cisco jumps at the clatter, effectively silenced.

“Absolutely not. I pay you what I legally must and no more. I’m not running a charity here. I have expenses of my own to worry about.”

In truth, he can’t even be bothered to pay for the electricity at his house. He spends so much time at work, it doesn’t matter. He practically lives here. He’s been called cheapskate plenty of times, but he’s long past giving a damn what people think of him. Only his inventions, the contributions conjured by intelligence matter.

Cisco swallows, and it seems to take him time to find his voice again. “Can I at least have Christmas day off?”

“Fine, but that’s it. Now get out of my sight before I fire you.”

“I understand. I hope you have a merry Christmas.”

“As a wise man once said, ba humbug!”

Cisco stops at the door way and looks over his shoulder. His expression is sad and pitying, and Harry wants none of it. Harry hates his soft, dumb face and wishes it were easier to hire an engineer/assistant that would tolerate him but more obedient and less talkative. 

“You know he changes at the end right? Because the ghosts show him -”

“Well, lucky for me that we live in the real world where such ghosts don’t exist. Joy, generosity, optimism are weak balms for lesser men. I get by just fine without them.”

Cisco gives him a lengthy, searching look. He doesn’t like the way it makes him feel under a microscope. If Cisco decides to continue this thread, Harry will cancel his day off for certain. Distantly, he knows he should be careful. A part of him recognizes he can’t afford to lose Cisco. Few people are willing to work for him, and none as brilliant as this man.

“I hope you don’t mean that.” Cisco tosses him a spare key. “You’re welcome to join us for Christmas dinner, if you want.”


End file.
